


Hush

by lovesrogue36



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Or at least as sappy as Mayhem ever gets, Oral Sex, Quiet Sex, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesrogue36/pseuds/lovesrogue36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Rachel share a quiet moment after the Nevilles unexpectedly interrupt their night. | Spoilers for 213</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure why they needed to have sex AGAIN that night but the Mayhem demanded it.

The cellar was lit by a single lantern, night pressing in through the small, streaky windows.

“What do you think?” Miles mumbled the words into her shoulder, large warm hand sliding around her as she leaned against the table, reorganizing and cataloging supplies for the third time in five days just to keep busy.

He was twisted up in knots about the Nevilles; she thought that was kind of ridiculous, given that they knew full well Tom would betray them within the month. She’d put money on within the week, actually. So why fret about it?

Rachel twisted just slightly enough that his stubble scraped across her cheek, eyes hooded as her thoughts drifted instead to the feel of night air on bare skin. “I think Tom’s a conniving son of a bitch, his son’s a patsy and-” She pressed that tiny bit up onto her toes to catch his lips in hers, a newfound privilege, and her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. “-though if anything could kill Julia it would be an atomic bomb, that doesn’t mean it did.”

He sighed, breath ruffling her hair, the same bright curls he’d yanked on earlier that night in a field with their clothes in a pile and her legs around his waist. Leaning more heavily against her back, the jars of food and bullets rattling on the table, Miles pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of her jaw.

“Forgot how addictive it is, you inside me.” Shuddering a little at that idea, Rachel lifted a hand to run fingers through his hair.

“We have to go back to fighting the war now,” he protested in a whisper.

She shook her head, feeling him wrap his arms around her so she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to, body language betraying him. “No. Don’t want to.” Her lips lifted in an approximation of a smile, turning tired blue eyes on him. “We could run away to Mexico. Not come back this time.”

Miles slid a hand beneath her hair, rough, torn up fingers trailing down her jaw. “Sounds perfect,” he admitted in a mumble, forehead resting against her temple.

They stood like that for long, quiet seconds, her eyes almost drifting shut. Their post-coital glow had been interrupted but Rachel could feel it seeping into her again, the warmth of his arm on her waist and the soft puff of breath against her cheek. That giddy, turned on desire to strip herself down beside him and feel his skin on hers. The longest twenty years of her life suddenly seemed like a nightmarish fever dream. She’d called it foreplay earlier, but it was more like biding their time until the world was righted again.

Rachel huffed an out-of-context laugh into the dim lantern light, feeling more than watching him raise an eyebrow. Yeah, with the planet in darkness, two major cities wiped off the map by her own hand and the US government running a culling in her hometown, the world was righted again. She shook her head, turning to wrap her arms around him and drop her cheek to his chest. “Missed you, that’s all,” she explained in a murmur, the edge of his jacket rough and scratchy on her face. She thought maybe that didn’t make sense outside of her head but he didn’t question it.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, hands rubbing circles on her back through the too-thick layer of her cable knit. Miles pulled away a bare few inches after a moment, tugging her over to the cot in the corner, but she stuck fast to the floor, staring at him.

“ _Miles_. Dad is _right there_ ,” she hissed. The door was closed but Gene and the Nevilles were asleep in the other room and it was a cellar, for god’s sake, not a fort. The walls weren’t that thick.

He rolled his eyes though she kind of thought he wanted to smirk at her instead. “To _sleep_.” Miles stripped off his jackets and tossed them over a chair, shirt sleeves faded and stretched down around his palms. She eyed him for a bit, smoothing her hands over her sweater, before leaning over to snuff out the lantern.

Sinking onto the cot, he unlaced his boots and tugged them off with a groan, stretching his toes in threadbare socks while she undressed down to her black bra and panties. She could feel his eyes on her in the dark even though he’d already seen everything a couple hours ago. Rachel smirked to herself, sliding in beside him, her head tucked into his chest and he sighed, seeming to relax for the first time since they left the drive-in.

Before he could conk out on her though, she blindly ran her hands along his waistband and unhooked the button on his pants. His eyes flew open and he grabbed at her wrists, turning dark eyes on her in the pitch black room.

“Thought you were worried about Gene,” he rumbled, eyebrow arched. _And Tom and Jason._

“You can be quiet, can’t you?”

Miles licked his lips and she knew she had him. “Can you?”

“ _Cocky_.”

His mouth twisted into a half-smile for a brief moment and he released her, only to wrap his arms around her, dragging her close. He drove his fingers into her hair, breathing deep, and Rachel wondered what she smelled like to him. He used to say something about strawberries but these days she thought all he’d find was dead trees and hemlock.

Not nearly as romantic. Better metaphor though.

His short nails scraped at her scalp as she tugged his jeans open, licking her palms and pushing her hands into his underwear. Miles shuddered a soft breath against her forehead.

They hadn’t had much time for this in the field, though there hadn’t been anything stopping them, exactly. After so many years, after the last eight months of living on top of each other, Rachel had just wanted him inside her. The thought made her ache, teeth sinking into her lip and thighs pressing together of their own accord. She must have jerked him a bit too tightly because he muffled a groan in her shoulder, squeezing her arm hard, hard enough to leave a bruise probably.

“Shhh.” Lifting slick fingers to press against his lips, she felt a teasing smile touch her eyes. In the space of a few hours, Miles had managed to make her smile more than she had in years, it felt like. God, that was sappy.

He nipped at her, tongue swiping out across the pads of her fingers. Rachel bit her lip at that image, Miles finding himself on her skin and chasing after the taste. Closing a hand around hers, he mouthed a line across her palm and down her wrist until she breathed a moan against the curve of his neck. “ _Miles_ ,” she whispered, his name slipping out of her involuntarily.

Rolling her under him, the cot creaking too loud, he tipped his head to kiss her, tongue tracing her lips and her teeth and then meeting her own tongue with a quiet, fierce intensity she’d missed beyond shampoo and Milky Way bars. He cupped her cheek in one hand, thumb stroking her jaw. Her fingertips brushed the scar on the back of his hand, long legs sliding along his, slow and relaxed.

Miles sighed into her, slumping heavily onto his side, head resting on the ratty pillow with Rachel tucked into him, mouths still connected. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, clinging to his warmth. “Want you,” he gasped, mid-kiss. He seemed as eager to repeat their earlier moment as she felt, big hands coursing over her naked skin and hitching her thigh over his.

Winding an arm up around his neck, Rachel trailed kisses over his jaw, hips grinding against his opened pants. “Thought you said we can’t pretend anymore.”

“Huh?”

She lifted her head just far enough to meet his eyes, black on blue. “That we aren’t fighting a war,” Rachel whispered in clarification.

He shook his head, framing her face in his hands. “No, I-” Miles sat up, tugging his pants off and drawing the blanket up over them so they lay skin to skin. “Don’t need to pretend now. You’re here.”

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes suddenly stinging. It was blunt and stilted, so very Miles, but she knew he meant every sentimental syllable of it. Rachel drew him in close, chilled palms pressing to his cheeks and her tongue in his mouth. She dug her heel into the back of his thigh, his cock thick and wet between her legs, suddenly unable to wait any longer.

“ _Miles-_ ” She gasped as he pushed inside her, shallow at this angle but somehow perfect anyway.

It was his turn to lay his thumb over her lips, a ghost of a smile in the crinkle of his eyes. “ _Shhh_ ,” he teased, pressing a hand into the small of her back so she arched up, breasts soft and spilling out the edges of her bra. He ducked his head, mouth wet and noisy on her skin, sucking a bruise there no doubt, until she tugged on his hair in protest.

“Could you be any louder?” Rachel hissed, eyes drifting shut as she clenched on him, free hand trailing beneath his neckline, over the scar on his collarbone, the black shadows of his tattoos.

Miles groaned quietly, head buried between her breasts, tongue tracing the line of her bra. “You taste good,” he mumbled.

Smirking at that, she pressed closer, felt him slide a little deeper, lips pressing against his ear. “Yeah, well, Tom Neville doesn’t need to know that.”

He shuddered, glaring up her body and nudging her back against the wall, hand braced at her hip. Rachel met his lips, open-mouthed, tongues teasing and stroking and he thrust inside her, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her mouth watered as he stretched his thumb between them, flicking at her clit, the cold stone wall at her back.

Grinding into him, her nails dug into his shoulder, mouth angled so her tongue swept against his teeth, messy and slick and just right. His hand braced on the uneven stones behind her, the cot creaking and protesting under their weight as he rocked inside her.

Rachel panted into his mouth, letting him muffle her string of _yesyesMilesyes_ as she came around him, seizing and cramping, her thighs wrapped tight around his skinny hips. As his thrusts grew ungainly, her body still trembling with little spasms of pleasure, her hand flew down between them and wrapped tight around the base of his cock, fingers threaded through dark curls. “Don’t come, don’t come,” she gasped, pushing him down flat on his back.

Pressing her hands to his chest, she lifted herself off him, stifling a whimper with teeth in her lip before sliding down beneath the blanket. He caught on fast, hand in her hair and one knee bent up beside her head. Rachel drew her tongue over him, finding her own bittersweet taste mingled with his whiskey-salt, and moaned in spite of herself. She dug her fingers into his thigh, bracing herself in the dark, sweat-damp under the blanket as she took him slowly in her mouth.  

Above her, she heard him muffle a groan and smiled to herself, sucking gently, tongue laid flat over the tip. Her free hand dipped beneath the edge of her bra, nipple hardening under her fingers and a sigh escaping her. When was the last time she’d felt so at ease and satisfied?

Miles bucked under her, big calloused hand clenching at the back of her head. She lay there long heartbeats, feeling him shudder, resist the urge to thrust even as she savored the thick, hot weight of him on her tongue. When he finally tugged at her hair, she found herself a bit disappointed to release him, to not have him twisted up inside her anymore; she pulled back anyway, fingers sliding through dark chest hair as he came across her stomach.

Rachel collapsed against him, though it wasn’t her that had come, her breasts crushed to his chest. She flipped the blanket back with one hand, sucking in a lungful of fresh air, to find Miles with an arm thrown over his face. He groaned, peeking down at her through glazed dark eyes before reaching down to swipe a thumb over her bottom lip and plunged it in his mouth.

She realized she probably looked wrecked, hair a mess and come on her lips and bare skin.

“Think they heard?” she asked in a whisper, shifting so she lay with her hands folded on his chest, her chin on her hands and his cock lying between her thighs.

“Nah.” Glancing over her shoulder at the thin, closed door, he amended, “Probably.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the blanket up over them and curled at his side. Her fingers slipped through the sticky come on her skin.

“When this is all over, I’m going to-”

Rachel reached up to stop him with a kiss, shaking her head. “No. We’re not going to put this off anymore.”

He stammered a bit but wound an arm around her shoulders, nodding. “Yeah,” he breathed finally, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah.”


End file.
